


Girls Just Wanna Have... Fun?

by jessethejoyful



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Genderswap, M/M, aka girls just wanna have fun, and baz turns them back with bowie, simon turns he and baz into girls through the power of 80s pop, this is a technology positive au lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 14:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15820587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessethejoyful/pseuds/jessethejoyful
Summary: When a feminist-playlist-turned-disaster winds up with Simon turning he and Baz into girls, the boys (girls?) have to figure out how to get back to their normal selves.





	Girls Just Wanna Have... Fun?

**Author's Note:**

> This starts just after Baz returns to Watford in their seventh year, after Simon's told him about his mum and their truce has begun. It includes a lot of things that were actually IN the book, ending just after their fight with the dragon. :) just for fun  
> Thanks to ani (https://neck-mole.tumblr.com/) for all the support and ban (https://basic-banshee.tumblr.com/) (who has no idea about this but) for inspiring me to have Baz use Bowie lyrics to turn the boys back, because I was STUMPED  
> Enjoy! :)

**SIMON**

This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m staring at Baz and I in the bathroom mirror, jaw hanging open, because this was _not_ supposed to happen.

It had started with a playlist. Penny and I had been hanging out on the grounds on a more mild afternoon in October, listening out loud to one she’d made on Spotify that was girl-centric (“Songs by women,” she said excitedly, “for women!”) and I was enjoying it, so I asked her to send it to me. I downloaded it on my phone and had been listening to it for a few weeks when I was doing homework.

When I was in the room, even after Baz returned, I’d listen to it through my little Bluetooth speaker, and he didn’t gripe too often.

But when Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ came on while we were searching for Nicodemus, he let out a groan, rolling his head back and fixing me with a glare from his desk. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Snow,” he said, gesturing at the speakers. “Please. _Spare_ me.”

And I was feeling rather contrary toward Baz, who’d been off plotting or whatever for weeks, and actually feeling that song - so instead of turning it off, I used my wand to turn it up and started singing along.

“Some boys take a beautiful girl, and hide her away from the rest of the world,” I sang out, tapping my wand against my thigh. Baz tried to cover his ears, and I sang louder, dancing on my bed. “I wanna be the one to walk in the sun - **_Oh, girls, they want to have fun!_ ** ”

Smoke filled the room, and we both started hacking as it filled our lungs and our vision. “Aleister Crowley,” Baz coughed through the haze, his voice higher than usual, “what the fuck did you do, Snow?”

Just as quickly as it came, the smoke dissipated, leaving no trace. I opened my eyes, looking around the room for something to attack us, but I realized what had actually happened was much… much worse.

Baz was staring at me from his desk, but he was... different. His black hair was longer, falling in dark cascades down his shoulders. His nose was smaller, his lips fuller, and the eyelashes blinking at me were so long I could see them across the room.

“...Simon?” he said, and grabbed his throat as his voice came out high and feminine again. We stared at each other for another beat, then surged up at the same time and raced to our en-suite. In the bathroom mirror, we gaped at our baffled reflections. “Oh, you’ve really done it now, Snow.”

Standing side by side, I’m blown away. Baz is still taller than me, and thinner, but now he’s all gentle curves like a dancer, hip jutting out as he glares at me in our reflection. And I’m staring at myself, because I don’t know what else to do.

My hair had grown out some during the semester, but it’s even longer now, stopping just above my shoulders in a shower of golden curls. My eyes are bigger, almost like a cartoon, my nose still crooked but smaller, and I’m alarmed by how much my chest presses against the buttons of my shirt. Baz’s is nearly nonexistent.

“That song isn’t a fucking spell,” Baz hisses at me, turning to face me and throwing his - her? - hands in the air. “You turned us into _girls_ . How the fuck do you _always_ manage to fuck up this badly?”

I bristle at him, putting my hands on my (generous) hips. “This isn’t _my_ fault!” I cry, even though it totally is, and I’m startled by how much higher my voice is now. Neither of us know what to do apart from yell at each other.

“It absolutely is your fault!” he declares, storming back into our room, and I follow him. He picks up his wand from his bed and points it at me, and I think he’s going to curse me, but instead he says sharply, “ ** _As you were!_ ** ” I look down at myself, but nothing’s changed. “ _ **Back to start!**_ ” Still nothing.

“You’re going to turn me into a baby!” I growl, shoving his hand away and grabbing for my own wand. “I probably have to do it, since I cast it to start with.” He winces as I point my wand at him, but doesn’t move away. “ ** _As you were!_ ** ” We both stay the same, and I say it again, trying to push as much of my power into the phrase as I can, but it doesn’t touch us. “Jesus fuck!”

Baz sits down heavily on his bed, crossing his arms and legs and furrowing his gentler brow at me. I’m struck dumb for a second, because he’s even prettier than Agatha like this, with the most elegant cheekbones I’ve ever seen, and all that sleek hair. “You had better figure out how to fix this,” he says, his voice soft with barely-controlled rage, “and quickly.”

“You know I’m shit with stuff like this,” I say, edged with panic as I perch on my own bed. “We need _Penny_. Or the Mage.”

“Not the fucking Mage,” Baz admonishes, shaking his head violently. “Call your sidekick, and make her _fix_ us.”

I grab my phone, trying not to mutter, “Since _you_ can’t figure it out,” as I enter Penny’s number. I don’t tell her what happened, only that it’s an absolute emergency, and she tells me she’ll be right over.

 

**PENELOPE**

I knock on Simon’s door, wondering what could be so dire that he _called_ me instead of walking the short distance across campus. He’d sounded strange on the phone. Maybe he’s sick.

When the door opens, I nearly fall back down the staircase. It’s obviously Simon (I’d recognize that panicked expression anywhere) but he’s - _female_. Still a lot taller than me, but with longer hair and these huge anime eyes. I bark out a surprised laugh, and he yanks me into the room, slamming the door behind me and leaning against it.

“Merlin and Morgana,” I cackle, stumbling into the room and righting myself on Baz’s bed frame. And then I look up and see Baz, and fall into another fit of giggles, trying not to collapse on the floor. “For the love of magic, what did you two _do_?!”

Baz is immediately indignant. “It wasn’t me!” he says in this new feminine voice, and I can’t help it as more laughter rolls out of me. “Simon was listening to your fucking feminist playlist, and singing awfully to ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,’ and then - _this_.” He gestures at himself, clearly livid, and I fall onto Simon’s bed as I laugh harder.

“You’re telling me,” I wheeze between laughs, “Cyndi Lauper - did _this_?!” They’re both glaring at me, but I can’t stop laughing, holding my stomach as I try to breathe, tears in my eyes. I finally calm down, and by that point they’re both huffing and pouting, and Simon sits down beside me. “You’re a cute girl,” I tell him, and he scowls.

“We need your _help_ , Penn,” he implores, leaning toward me. “You know I’m bad at stuff like this, and Baz doesn’t know what to do either. We tried **As you were** and Baz tried **Back to start** -”

“- But that could turn you both into babies,” I interrupt, and he nods. Now that I’m calm, I peer at them, trying to work through the problem myself. “That song definitely isn’t a spell, that I know of.” Baz snorts at this. “Simon, your magic is without precedent. Seriously.”

“Tell me about it,” he grumbles, folding his leg up underneath him. “Can’t you think of anything?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a small problem, now is it?” I reply, still thinking. “Maybe there’s a countercurse. I think you’d have to cast it, Simon, since your magic doesn’t make any sense as it is… but I’ll have to think about it.”

“But we have class tomorrow!” Baz says angrily, staring at me in alarm. “We can’t just _stay_ like this.”

“I don’t think you really have a choice,” I say gleefully, because this entire situation is still absolutely hilarious to me. “Unless it wears off overnight, you two are going to have a _very_ interesting day.”

 

**BAZ**

I could kill Simon. I really think I could for this, truce notwithstanding. I don’t think even the Anathema would blame me, if I killed him in our room.

We wake up the next morning and the spell hasn’t worn off.

Like the room knew what had happened, our uniforms change overnight. They now feature the short skirts of the female uniform, and I don’t think either of us are very grateful.

I take a very stiff shower, not sure how to deal with this new body, or style my hair, but it’s so long and heavy that it sort of does its own thing, long and straight and actually quite nice. Simon’s is a disaster, like he doesn’t know how to brush it, and ends up more of a frizzy mess than Bunce’s normally is.

“You look ridiculous,” I say drily, staring at him as we’re about to leave the room. We never leave together, but I feel like today will go easier if we come as a pair. Fewer explanations required.

“I don’t know what to do with it!” he snarls, twisting his hand through the mess.

I sigh and pull my wand from my pocket, and he winces. “ **_Smoother than a fresh jar of Skippy_ ** ,” I say primly, tapping my wand against his head. I'd seen Daphne use that spell after a day at the track, when the humidity was especially horrid. His hair instantly flattens out, the wild, messy curls now looking sleek and neat. He lifts his hand up and plumps the curls, and I’m surprised by how adorable he looks with that movement and the awed expression on his face.

“Wicked,” he whispers, and I roll my eyes.

“Let’s _go_ , Snow.”

Before we’ve even made it to the dining hall, we’re receiving stares, people stopping in their tracks as we cross the courtyard (Simon, yanking at his skirt to keep it from riding up and me, limping) to whisper behind their hands to their companions. Dev spots us, looks away, looks back with his jaw falling open.

“Baz, is that you?” he says as he jogs over to us, eyes wide. “What the fuck - ?”

“Blame Simon,” I snap, pushing past him and continuing on to the dining hall. If I weren’t starving, I don’t think I’d even risk going inside. And I know Simon can’t function without three or more meals a day. I can hear him hurrying to keep up with me (I was very gratified to still be taller than him, even this way), and Dev isn’t far behind.

Niall is already at our usual table, and as I put my bag down in my seat, he gapes at me.

“Baz, Simon,” he says, trying to school his expression and failing miserably. “Uh - yeah, sorry, what the fuck happened?” I don’t reply, and neither does Simon, his face bright red as he hurries to get a teapot and his food. Everyone in the hall is practically silent, but I ignore it, glaring daggers at anyone who meets my eyes.  
They all look away.

Penelope joins us at our table not long after, still cackling, and I’m feeling rather cramped with five people at our table instead of the normal three. And it’s even worse when Agatha comes in. Simon’s face is nearly purple, and even though they broke up, I can tell he’s still hung up on her.

She comes over to us, staring hard at both me and Simon. “Pull up a chair, Agatha,” Penelope says, and I’m cursing her inwardly for her joy at our expense. I’m surprised that Agatha actually listens, since she’s been ignoring Penelope and Simon both for weeks. She sits between Dev and Niall, and Dev is practically preening, but Agatha pays him no attention.

“So is anyone going to explain?” she says finally, after a long moment of _awkward_.

Penelope takes it upon herself, since neither Simon nor I speak. “Simon turned them into girls with ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,’” she declares, and everyone else at the table snorts into their food.

“The power of 80’s pop,” Dev says in a voice obviously trying to hide laughter, and then they all cut up, Niall doubling over and Agatha at least hiding her giggles behind her hand. Even Simon is laughing. I crack a small smile, because even though I could still skin Simon for this - even I can’t help admitting it’s amusing.

“Have you figured out a workaround?” Niall asks, and I level my eyes at him.

“Does it _look_ like we've figured out a workaround?” I drawl, but it doesn't sound as scathing in this new voice. And he doesn't wither, just grins.

“You make a pretty girl, Baz,” he says, and I cover my face with my hand.

“If you start trying to flirt with me,” I say slowly, “I will end your miserable life.”

Simon speaks for the first time. “I really think we ought to talk to the Mage. Since none of us know what to do, he might be able to suggest something.”

“You know what the Mage will tell you, Simon?” Bunce says, sipping her tea. “He’ll tell you this is an _excellent_ opportunity for you to practice your problem solving, and figure out how to fix this on your own.” Simon moans at this, and we all know she's right. The Mage is so fucking sanctimonious.

“I guess I'll be doing some research tonight, then,” Simon sighs before stuffing his face with two scones at the same time. Even as a girl, his appetite is unending.

“I'll help you,” I say decisively, and he looks surprised. “I don't want to be stuck like this. And this is taking away time from - everything else. I don't have confidence in you figuring this out on your own, so we'll do it together.”

 

**SIMON**

Lessons are even worse than breakfast. Everyone has gotten over the initial shock, and they keep asking us what happened. Luckily Baz is in most of my classes, so his glaring powers scare most people off.

But he can't intimidate the teachers, and every class they call us up to ask what we've done. By the end of the day, I'm tired of explaining it. Miss Possibelf tells me I need to work on my moderation, and I have to stop myself from saying, “You think?”

Baz and I sit together, which is still so weird, because even though we've been working together to solve his mother's murder, we were still mostly avoiding each other outside of our room. And I can't focus on the lessons, because I'm distracted by Baz like this. He really is prettier than Agatha like this, even with that long nose and his deep cupid’s bow. And the way his long, silky hair falls in front of his eyes -

Nope, I've got to stop thinking like this. It's just because he's a girl now, it's not like I'm attracted to _Baz._ He's still fucking ruthless, and if anything, I'm _more_ intimidated by him while he's like this. He's still limping, and still looks like he's been in prison or something, but he radiates the kind of beauty that instills fear. Or awe. Both?

Apparently the Mage isn’t even _here_ \- according to Miss Possibelf, he left early yesterday for something urgent. And I don’t press, because I do think Penny’s right. He’d tell me to _work it out_.

So after lessons, instead of going back to the room to look more into Baz’s mum, Penny, Baz and I are camped out in the library, stacking up books on creating and breaking spells, trying to sort this one out. There’s not even that many books on the subject, because the Mage cleared out almost all of the books that aren’t purely literature.

“This book seems to think that repeating the spell might reverse the effects,” Penny says, leaning over the table and frowning. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Baz agrees, glancing over at the pages. “I’m fairly certain that’s not how this works. You said it yourself, Bunce, Simon’s magic is without precedent. I doubt we’re going to find the answer in any of these books,” he says, tossing the book he’s holding onto the table and dropping into a chair. He’s been annoyingly comfortable in his skirt, while I’ve been struggling to walk around in mine all day without flashing anyone.

I close my own book and glare at Baz, mostly because I’m feeling self-conscious about this whole situation. I should know how to fix it - but I’m at a loss, we all are.

“What’s the likelihood it’ll just wear off?” I ask Penny, and she looks pensive.

“Fairly low,” she says. I was worried she’d say that. “Your magic is so strong, Simon, I doubt this is just going to disappear. Just like you came up with the spell, you can probably just come up with a countercurse - some lyrics maybe, but with the opposite meaning?”

“What about ‘the boys are back in town?’” Baz suggests snidely. I roll my eyes, but Penny shrugs.

“More or less like that, yeah. It needs to have some feeling behind it too, though, you both know that.” We do know that, but we also all know that I’ve always been shit at finding the right turn of phrase, or whatever. “I guess we can all just think on it for a bit; maybe we’ll find the lyrics you’re looking for without meaning to. Until then…” She smirks at us. “I think you two are stuck this way.”

We return to our room, because going anywhere else on campus leads to more questions and more looks. Baz is fuming and I don’t really blame him.

I’m grateful for Penny, because she lent me a bra last night (we’ve reached an odd place in our friendship), and taking it off is seriously the greatest feeling. I’ll never judge her again when she complains to me about them; I’ve been chafing all day. Baz doesn’t have one, Penny’s chest is way bigger than his, but he did alright with a tight tank underneath his blazer.

“I really wonder how long this is gonna last,” I say to Baz after too long of a silence. He hasn’t said a word to me since we got back to the room, just sat on his bed typing away on his phone.

“As long as it takes you to figure out a fix,” he says flatly. “So, probably forever.” I groan and fall into my bed, burying my face in my pillow. “Don’t despair too much, Snow. At least you make a cute girl.”

I sit up and stare at him. “You what?”

“Don’t read into it,” he mutters, lifting his phone up to hide his face.

 

**PENELOPE**

I expected one of them to crack it faster than this. It’s the middle of November, and they still haven’t figured anything out. Simon’s been trying every lyric about boys that he can think of (“‘Dude looks like a lady!’ ‘Sometimes I wish I could act like a boy!’” He even tried Baz’s suggestion of ‘The boys are back in town!’ but of course it didn’t work), but having very little luck. He’s a good singer, so he’s been going through songs with me outside of classes, but nothing seems to take. If this goes on for much longer, he’s going to have to buy his own bras, because I’m getting tired of lending him mine.

Both of them are on edge all the time, because people keep giving them shit for it. I still think it’s hilarious, but they lose a little more of their humor every time one of the other guys in our year pretends to ask them out, or the girls offer them makeup advice. I practically have to hold Baz back several times; the whole thing seems to be grating more on him than Simon.

It takes a lot more to phase Simon, I guess.

 

**BAZ**

This is just like Simon. I come back from being held prisoner for weeks and weeks, half dead all over again, to find out my mother came back while I was gone - and then he pulls something like this, putting everything on hold while we try to figure out another of his fuck-ups.  

We’re sitting down to tea (Simon, Bunce and I have somehow become a set - it’s getting weird. Dev and Niall are pretty miffed, but they join us anyways. Wellbelove stays far away.) when the screaming starts. Simon manages to knock the table over, sending glassware flying, before racing out the door with Bunce on his heels. I pause for a minute before running after them.

I catch up to Simon as he grabs the arm of a first year girl, demanding to know what’s happened. “Dragon!” she squeaks. “The Humdrum sent a dragon!” Simon’s sword is in his hand and we’re all barreling out of the dining hall against the flow of students streaming in from the courtyard.

The feeling of the Humdrum is everywhere outside, that dry, sucking itch that every Watford student knows by now. I can’t see the dragon, but I can hear it, flapping and breathing its hot breath somewhere above us.

“ **_U can’t touch this!_ ** ” Bunce shouts, shoving her hand forward.

“That spell only works if the dragon knows the song!” I shout at her.

“I’m doing my best!”

Fire pours out over the Lawn, and we look up together to see the beast diving toward us. Bunce is trying to ground the thing, Simon is yelling at her, and I think it’s working when it twists in the air - but then it’s obvious that its target isn’t us, but a group of students cowering under the yew tree with Miss Possibelf. She’s shaking her walking stick at the dragon, but all the spells she throws at it bounce off its hide.

Before I can do anything, Simon whips his wand from his pocket and shouts, “ **_Your attention please!_ ** ” My head turns away from the dragon against my will to look at Simon, his magic tugging at me. Beyond him, the dragon stops mid-air and turns back to us, and Penelope is cursing.

“ **_There’s nothing to see here!_ ** ” she shouts, but gesturing at the school, not the dragon. “ **_As you were!_ ** ” I struggle to turn away from Simon and see that the whole school has come out to watch the spectacle - Simon’s spell was too much, as always. He’s running toward the dragon with his sword out, trying to lead it away from the school.

I tear after him, screaming, “Wait! Don’t hurt it!” I’m faster than him, partially because I’m not worrying about holding down my skirt while I run, and my legs are longer. “Simon! They’re not dark creatures!”

“What do you suggest, then?!” he shrieks, holding up his sword as the dragon bears down on us. He’s ready to strike, but I hold up my wand and point it toward the dragon. “Baz, no, you’re flammable!”

“So is everything!” I take a deep breath and light the match inside myself, dumping every ounce of my power into the spell. **_“Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, your house is on fire, and your children are gone.”_ ** There’s nothing more powerful in our world than nursery rhymes, and while this one is normally used for pests and small vermin, I’m thinking it’ll work for this hen. Otherwise, Simon will definitely kill her, and that’s dark shit. **_“Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, your house is on fire and your children shall burn. All except one, and her name is Nan, and she hid under the porridge pan.”_ **

I’m sweating profusely, and I don’t think the spell is working - I don’t have the power - but then Simon puts his hand on my shoulder and suddenly I’m struck with lightning. His power courses through me, and my arm straightens like a rod. And then the spell actually starts working. **_“Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, your house is on fire and your children shall burn. All but one, and that’s little John, and he lies under the grindle stone.”_ **

It’s like I’m a conduit, Simon’s fire flowing through me and allowing me the strength to make the spell work. Is this what it’s like to be Simon Snow? Crowley. **_“Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home!”_ ** I boom out another line, and the dragon rears backwards, taking to the air and flapping its wings frantically to get away. I use Simon’s magic to shout, **_“As you were!”_ ** at the school, and then step away from his hand. The tap stops, and I’m scorched through.

“What the fuck was -” I start through clenched teeth, but Penelope barrels into Simon, and I cut off. She’s talking at him, grabbing his hand, trying to place it on her shoulder. There are kids everywhere, inspecting the scorch marks and trying to get over the general panic of a near-death experience.

Miss Possibelf comes over to compliment my spellwork, but I know the spell wasn’t going to work until Simon started helping me. His power is bottomless. Without limits.

And absolutely terrifying.

Bunce follows us back to our room. I’m still not sure how she gets around the wards, but she’s so incessantly fiendish, I’m not really surprised. I _am_ surprised, however, that Simon has told her nothing about my mother or the Visitings. She grills us for information, and just having her there helping makes everything feel more productive.

“What was that earlier?” she says later to Simon as she falls back on his bed. “Since when can magicians just tap into you?”

“I don’t know.” I watch him shift awkwardly, staring at his hands.

“Have you considered using it to fix this problem?” Bunce says, gesturing between Simon and I.

“I don’t know,” Simon says again, staring over at me. “I’ve never done it before, I hadn’t even thought of that yet.” They launch into more discussions, but I’m not paying a lot of attention. I could have easily died today, gone up like a piece of flash paper, and that would’ve been it. I finally stand up, claiming I need air, and step out of the room.

 

**SIMON**

Penelope leaves before Baz comes back. She kept trying to get me to open my power to her, but I kept declining. I didn’t want to hurt her.

I shower before Baz comes back too, wanting to clean the day away. He comes back smelling sort of damp, and I figure he went down to the Catacombs to feed. He disappears into the bathroom, but I sit up when he comes out, and clear my throat. “Baz?”

“What.”

“I… can you come here?” I sound ridiculous. I know I sound ridiculous.

“No.”

“I can come over there, then.”

“You may not.” I push up anyways, crossing the small distance between our beds and sitting on his.

I offer him my hand, and he recoils. My hair is curling up around my face as it dries, dropping into my eyes, and I lean toward him. “Penny was right. We should test this. Maybe if you’re the one casting, it’ll work. My power and your spellwork - it just might work.”

“I’m glad you can finally admit I’m the better magician,” he mutters, staring at my outstretched hand. I flex my fingers, and after another moment, he sighs and puts his hand in mine. “What if I turned it against you?”

“My magic?”

“Yes. What if I took your magic, turned it against you, and settle this feud once and for all?” Why has he already _thought_ of this? How is he such a villain? I ask him, and he says, “I thought of it when I was still rhyming at the dragon. Didn’t you?”

“ _No_.”

“This is why I’m going to beat you.”

I ignore him. “I’m going to try now.”

He sighs. “Fine.” I lick my lip and think about - opening. _Pushing_. I send my magic through him, a little to start with, and I see him stiffen. His long hair hides most of his face in the darkness, all shadow.

“Should you be casting a spell?”

“I don’t know. This is your experiment, isn’t it? Have you thought of any more trashy lyrics to try?” Baz says icily.

“Do you _feel_ okay?” I ask, leaning forward.

“Grand.”

“Could you use it? To break this spell?”

He laughs, and it’s so good-natured that I’m startled. “Snow. I think I could cast a sonnet right now.”

I squeeze his hand. “Show me. Fix this.”

Baz stares at me for a moment, like he’s thinking hard. I pour a little more magic into him. His voice comes out powerful, but soft. **_“Nothing stands in your way, when you’re a boy.”_ **

Magic settles on both of us, smoke swirling around us and filling the room with a soft light that emanates from our joined hands. It’s gentler than when we changed the first time, the vapor filling me with ease instead of fire. I can’t see Baz, only our hands between us, but when the smoke clears and the light remains - I can see him, and he’s back to himself. We both are.

“What song was that?” I ask softly, not wanting to break the calm that seems to fill the air. He doesn’t answer me, just stares at me in quiet alarm. We’re just sitting there, holding hands, and I pull my power back. The light dims. “Baz. What song was that? Have you been hiding that from me this whole time?”

“‘Boys Keep Swinging,’” he says. His voice is louder than mine. “It’s a Bowie song.” He drops my hand and scowls, like he hates that it worked. “There we are, then. Get off my bed.”

I do, perching on the edge of my own and peering at him through the gloom. “Aren’t most of Bowie’s songs like - about being gay?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Baz hisses, laying down facing away from me. “None of it matters.”


End file.
